


Of Boxers, and Other Underwear

by GryfoTheGreat



Category: Persona 3, Persona Series
Genre: Armor, Charm, F/M, High-Cut Armor, Marin Karin, god fucking damnit mitsuru
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 09:20:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GryfoTheGreat/pseuds/GryfoTheGreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akihiko just wished they'd never opened the damned chest in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Boxers, and Other Underwear

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to write this when I saw the High-Cut Armor.  
> Also, I'm currently playing P3P and blogging it on Tumblr, so if you want to see too many screenshots of the male blushing sprites, it's at gryfothegreat.tumblr.com/tagged/gryfo-plays-p3p but you probably don't so yeah.

_Akihiko just wished they’d never opened the damned chest in the first place._

He thinks they were at the start of the Arqa block when they got the High-Cut Armour.

Minato handled it, as per usual; he always carried the equipment, even though it wasn’t much to carry. Matter worked differently in Tartarus. Before equipment was used, it kept a basic form. Shoes were flimsy pumps, armour manifested as white t-shirts, and their weapons shrunk to toy versions of themselves. Once used, they restored themselves to their proper form. It fascinated Mitsuru, but Akihiko didn’t really think about it. The laws of physics did not apply to the Dark Hour. It was as simple as that.

Minato checked the stats of the armour while Yukari tried to heal her arm. Akihiko watched as she cast a quick Dia on it, hissing softly under her breath. Healing magic was weird. It stung and wormed beneath your skin, heating your body but freezing wounds and aches.

“What is it?” Junpei asked sauntering over and trying to peek at the label of the thin white top.

“Armour for Yukari,” Minato answered softly, tugging on the fabric. “Yukari-san, what are you wearing now?”

“Camo Shirt,” Yukari called tiredly. “I’d like new stuff, though. Are the stats on that good?”

“Phenomenal, considering where we are.” Minato tossed it to her. “Please put it on.”

She blushed a little, but duly shuffled into a corner to don it. Akihiko and Minato turned around like true gentlemen, but Junpei had to be forcibly dragged away by his senpai.

“Isn’t High-Cut Armour a kinda weird name, though?” Junpei muttered.

“Shut-” Akihiko’s terse reply was cut off by a decidedly feminine yelp.

Akihiko looked around. He thought, _‘well, I wouldn’t have called it High Cut.’_ Then he gaped at what Yukari was wearing-or not wearing, in this case.

Yukari shrieked at them not to look, so Akihiko didn’t. He could hear Junpei coughing, and Minato sounded distinctly like he was trying not to laugh.

“I,” Yukari roared, “AM NOT WEARING THIS.”

“Yes,” Minato said thickly, “you are.”

“This isn’t armour! This is-“

“The difference between life and death.” Akihiko looked the younger girl straight in the face. “Would you endanger your life out of modesty?”

“I promise we won’t look,” Minato said quietly, and stared at his friend.

Junpei shifted awkwardly under his teammates combined gazes. “I won’t, okay? Jeez! What do you think I am, a pervert?” He paused. “Don’t answer that.”

Yukari giggled hesitantly. “I suppose... You guys owe me, though. This is cold...!”

The rest of the trip continued without further incident; in fact, it went as smoothly as one could expect a foray into Tartarus to go. The High Cut Armour actually did shield Yukari from a whole load of damage. Minato theorized that it distracted the enemies, but the rest of them tried not to think about it. It wouldn’t surprise Akihiko, though; he’d seen the Shadow on the monorail. It didn’t distract him after the first few battles. Yukari Takeba simply wasn’t attractive to him, which was probably more than their leader could say.

 

Their trips into Tartarus continued. They didn’t get any easier, but they didn’t get much harder, either. His life blurred into school, study, Shadows, and sleeping. He punched things in the gym, he read Mitsuru’s crappy European detective stories, and didn’t think about fire.

Eventually, though, his routine changed with the arrival of Fuuka Yamagishi. The benefit to the tem was amazing. Mitsuru’s abilities, while impressive, only stretched so far. Penthesilea was made for battle, not for back-up.

That night, alone, he looked at her and said, “Welcome back.” She smiled inscrutably, eyes narrowed slightly.

 

“Arisato, do you have anything better?” Mitsuru asked, tugging on her Kevlar Shirt. “I believe this is substandard.”

Akihiko had tuned out most of the conversation, tugging on his Sonic Fists. The last boss had done a number on them, and his gloves weren’t looking great. Yukari was spluttering at Mitsuru. She did that a lot.

“Wait...” Minato said thoughtfully. “I think I may.” He began to dig around in his bag as Akihiko readjusted the bindings on his wrists.

“NO,” Yukari said forcefully. “NOT THAT.” He assumed Minato had found whatever he was looking for.

“Not what?” Mitsuru queried.

“You are not wearing what I’m wearing!” Yukari said shrilly.

Akihiko felt the blood drain from his face. He swivelled around to stare very hard at his leader, whom he was almost certain had lost his mind.

“High Cut Armour...? Hmm...” Mitsuru tapped her chin with a manicured finger. “It is strong...” She looked at Yukari’s state of (un)dress and looked back to Makoto and regarded the innocent white t-shirt he held up. “...If I must.” she said. Akihiko was almost sure she was blushing. Mitsuru Kirijo did not blush.

Minato handed the top to her and walked away, grabbing Akihiko and hauling him away as he went. Akihiko was thankful, because he was pretty sure that he was currently incapable of movement.

By the time Mitsuru came back he had regained some of his composure. He concentrated on her stoic face and ignored the tight black leather and her creamy white skin, the wickedly gleaming gold and her overly long legs.

“Let’s get going,” he said roughly, and moved off, hoping that that hadn’t come out as a squeak.

 

The armour was not a good idea. It was a bad idea. In fact, it was A Horrible Idea.

He couldn’t concentrate like this. Usually he managed all... this pretty well, but today his hormones had decided to get out of hand. He kept missing the enemy, kept getting hit by attacks anyone could dodge, kept casting Zio on resistant enemies. It sucked!

Right now, he was in pretty deep shit, what with being in a battle against three Lustful Snakes.  Minato had barely any SP, Yukari was low on HP, Mitsuru was Charmed, and his attacks were only dealing scratch damage. Minato used up the last of his SP to heal Yukari, who almost took out the Shadow. One more hit would do it. He stared at Mitsuru and willed her to do the right thing-

But then she cast _Marin fucking Karin_.

Marin Karin was not good news. Back when they’d first fought the Shadows, just the three of them, Marin Karin had been amazing. It always hit, and it made battles a piece of cake. Now, though, Marin Karin was useless and Mitsuru was frustrated, what with her once-best skill now being a joke.

That wasn’t the worst bit, though. She cast Marin Karin on him, Akihiko, and it hit.

What in the actual fuck?

Getting hit with Marin Karin was like getting sprayed in the face with a bottleful of cheap perfume. Its sickly sweet musk pervaded his senses and clouded his mind. He felt like he was moving through honey.

Vaguely, he perceived Minato getting a hit in and finishing off the Shadow, but that was secondary. Everything was secondary to her.

He moved towards Mitsuru as quickly as he could. She looked fuzzy, rubbing her temples, the curled ends of her auburn hair brushing delicately against the smooth expanse of her back; evidently, the Charm status had worn off. Yukari and Minato were at the other side of the room, trying not to die.

She looked at him blankly as he approached. “Akihiko...? Are you alright?”

He clammed up, a red flush rising up his neck. In the recess of his mind, he roared at himself to ask for a Dis-Charm; he knew she had one.

He tried to speak, but it sounded strangled. Mitsuru was looking at him with real concern. “Akihiko? Are you alright?”

He shook his head mutely.

“Hmm...” She stared at him for a few seconds but soon she was in his personal space, tapping his head, examining his eyes. “Are you concussed?” She laid a hand on his arm. It was cold, and it seeped through his shirt. “If you want, we could stop exploring. We’ve made plenty of progress.”

“Mitsuru?” His own voice scares him, quiet, shaky.

“Yes?”

“You’re really pretty,” he mumbled and collapsed against her.

She barely caught him in time, just before he blacked out.

  
  
When he woke up, he was in his own bed, lying on top of the covers. His head was pretty fuzzy, and a dull headache was beginning to thump behind his temples.

He groaned quietly and turned to the side, groping for the bottle of water of water he always kept at his bedside-

And his hand landed on something else. An arm, to be precise.

Mitsuru’s arm.

She was sitting on the edge of his bed, her oddly soft eyes examining him, one hand resting on the sheets. Now, though, her eyes were wide and alarmed, like a deer caught in the headlights.

He let out a yelp and scrambled back, whacking his head off the wall in the process. Mitsuru sprang back too, blushing, a string of apologies beginning to spill from her mouth.

Why was Mitsuru apologising? More to the point, why was she blushing?

He heard Polydeuces sigh in the back of his head and drag up a few choice images. It was pretty helpful, having you own head-demon; Polydeuces wasn’t worth shit in an exam, though.

But, he really had done that. Faint.

On Mitsuru.

_Shit._

“Sorry,” he blurted out, just as Mitsuru did the same.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, locked in a Mexican standoff.

“Why are you apologising?” she said, bemused.

“For keeling over on you?” He answered her question with another, which he knew she hated.

“That was my fault for casting Marin Karin on you...” Mitsuru replied, cheeks flushing a deeper red.

“Yeah, you Charmed me while wearing Battle Panties.” Akihiko couldn’t believe he had just said that. He could hear Polydeuces slamming his head into a mental wall, possibly trying to summon himself.

“When you put it that way...” The blush had crept over her entire face, and she couldn’t meet his eyes.

“It sounds like the premise for a bad porno.”

How was he still alive? Was Shinji possessing him? Only Shinjiro Aragaki would have the balls to say that to Mitsuru Kirijo’s face. Polydeuces was laughing like an idiot, his snorts echoing around Akihiko’s skull.

She gaped at him for a long moment. Akihiko primed himself for an execution.

Instead of summoning the icy wrath of Penthesilea, she burst out laughing. “It...It does, doesn’t it?”

“...H-how would you know?” he said blankly.

She gave him a wicked smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Aware that his face was now roughly the same colour as his vest, he cleared his throat and hastily changed the subject. “Why are you in my room?”

“I was waiting in here for you to wake up. You really did worry me, Akihiko. You just... fell. I thought...” She swallowed the words back. “In any case, I’m glad you’re alright. You should rest now; I’m sure your head hurts.” Mitsuru stood up gracefully, brushing down her skirt and flipping her hair over her shoulder as she strode towards the door.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he muttered, pressing his hand to his forehead. Polydeuces wasn’t making things any better. “In any case... thanks, Mitsuru. As for what I said earlier...” She looked back at him, mouth slightly open. She had probably hoped he had forgotten it. “I-I meant it.”

She nodded jerkily, hair hiding her face, and stepped through the door. It swung shut with a muted click.

He thumped back down onto his bed.

“I’m gonna fry that armour,” he said finally, into the darkness of his room.

Polydeuces didn’t reply. Presumably, he was too busy trying to comprehend his continued state of existence.


End file.
